Wimpole, St Andrew

St Andrew is a dramatic example of what happens when a noble family
entirely dominates a village. There was a medieval church here, surrounded
by a little medieval village, but nothing of it now remains: there are
only a few Victorian cottages for estate workers on the main road from
Cambridge. Instead, St Andrew now holds company with Wimpole Hall, the
most impressive mansion in Cambridgeshire.

Well, reputedly, anyway. It costs a lot to get in, and most of the grand
apartments are very run-of-the-mill. The basement - containing servants'
rooms and the kitchens - was interesting, and the great walled vegetable
garden is lovely. On the whole, though, I think ones time and money would
be better spent going somewhere else.

Alas, the same can be said of the church. Of the medieval fabric, only a
small side chapel remains, and even that has been restored almost out of
all recognition. The rest is a rebuilding of 1749. The nave is built of
brick and looks vaguely gothicky (having been renovated according to the
latest tastes by Victorians), but there is a cool classical stone
façade facing the hall itself. The inside is just as incoherent - 18th
century Italianisms (Venetian east window, Ionic columns in the gallery)
struggling with 19th century Gothick for supremacy. Parish church?
Technically, I suppose - but there's little of the parish there.

Instead, we have grand monuments to the great and good who have lived at
Wimpole Hall. Most of them are in the Chichley chapel - the aforementioned
medieval survival - and they are very impressive.

The Earls of Hardwick
and other members of the Yorke family (the family that owned Wimpole from
1740) are represented in profusion, with tasteful monuments carved by the
best stonemasons of the day. The only one that I specifically noted was
the great chest tomb of Philip, Third Earl of Hardwick, who died in 1834.
He lies, asleep in the robes of a Knight of the Garter, dominating the
centre of the chapel, and gets points for sheer arrogant bravado.

Despite the
excellent quality of the rest, though, I can remember almost nothing save
an impression of a space very full of obelisks, cherubs, urns and
effigies. There was also a fine clerical brass set in wood in the south
east corner of the chapel, commemorating one Thomas Worlsey who died in
1502: the figure is quite large, and the images of the Virgin and child
above are a rare survival.

The best thing about St Andrews is also just about the only medieval
survival - the north window of the Chicheley chapel. This contains some
wonderful late medieval heraldic glass, with the shields of numerous grand
East Anglian families: Uffords, Bohuns, de Lyles and Tollemaches, amongst
others. In the middle is a picture of William de Ufford, Earl of Suffolk,
who was an enthusiastic supporter of King Richard II during the Peasants'
Revolt.

In retrospect, it puzzles me that I should have liked the window, but
disliked the monuments on the grounds that they represent the
self-importance of an overbearing noble family. Both are just the
emanations of family pride - advertisements of lineage and power. Perhaps
it's just a cult of age - being medieval makes oppression more palatable,
perhaps - but I'd like to think that I'm not so shallow. Another thing is
that there are none of the little signs of life here that speak of a
community weaving itself through a building over the centuries: just as in
life they cleared the village away from the front of their huge house, the
Yorkes in death so dominate the church that there's no sense of a
community at all.

Perhaps even closer to the mark, though, is that I didn't want to have to
write about those monuments: I resented the fact that they were notable,
and praiseworthy, and numerous. They demanded to be written about, and I
didn't want to write about them. I resolved instead to write about the odd
little details that attracted my eye - the shade of brown used for Earl
William's robe in the window, for example, which is a colour I've not seen
before in a medieval window. However, I knew that I'd have to write about
those stone Yorkes, and so I have, even if only to grumble about them. I'd
just visit the vegetable garden instead, if I were you.

St Andrew is usually kept open, and you don't need to buy a ticket for the hall to get in.

'In former days the churches and great houses hereabouts did so abound with monuments and things remarkable, that it would have deterred an antiquary from undertaking it. But as Pythagoras did guess at the vastness of Hercules' stature by the length of his foot, so among these ruins are remains enough left for a man to give a guess what noble buildings, &c. were made by the piety, charity, and magnanimity of our forefathers.' John AubreyApril 28, 1670.